Let the Music Talk
by anniebear99
Summary: Elizaveta is new to Berlin, and when the charming Gilbert offers to show her around along with the young boy of the family she is staying with, Roderich, she forms friendships with both of them. As the war begins to heighten, can friendships truly last?


**Let the Music Talk**

If someone had told Elizaveta, back when she was around six or seven years old, that she and the most stubborn and irresponsible person she'd ever met were going to be the best of friends later in life, she would have laughed.

Gilbert was known for being a troublemaker. He had white-blonde hair that doctors said would darken with age, but it never had. If anything, it had grown even lighter. His eyes were the most unusual shade she'd ever seen. They were a purplish-red. Add that to the white hair and pale skin, and most people thought he was albino. He was just a really peculiar kid.

Elizaveta couldn't help but reflect on how she and Gilbert had met with a smile. They both attended the same primary school, a small school located in Germany. Eliza had not made many friends, since she was all on her own in this small town. The war had just begun and, fearing for her safety, her parents had shipped her off to a boarding school in Germany where she could pass virtually undetected. Growing up in the lush countryside of Hungary and then being stuck in war-struck, industrial Berlin was the biggest change she had ever faced. So far.

The family she stayed with was nice enough. They had a boy her age, a very quiet boy. He was overly refined and polite, and kept to corner by the windowsill, where he practiced melodies on a gleaming piano that shined brighter than the dim candlelight that illuminated the house. His name was Roderich.

At first, Eliza had hated him. She had filled her days with roaming around the vast farmland her grandparents owned while her parents worked hard to support them all. She had loved how the sun stayed up just late enough that she could wander around the farm at night and take care of her own horse, which she had named Villám. It meant lightning, since the horse was the son of a very famous racehorse her grandparents had owned. Eliza had cared for that horse all her life, hoping that when she reached nine, she could start taking lessons. She wondered if the war would end in time for her to go back home and ride Villám for her ninth birthday. At the rate things were going, that was wishful thinking.

Eliza was a bright girl, quick on the spot and found school easy. However, in this new environment, she was too shy to raise her hand. Too quiet to get called on to read aloud in class. Every day, a teacher pulled her out to help her work on her basic German so she could even follow along with what the teacher was saying.

Eliza knew Hungarian, since that was the language she spoke at home, and English, since her grandparents traveled often and had picked up the language from a previous trip to Europe. She often found herself dwelling on her grandparents, bringing tears to the corners of her eyes. How long would she have to put up with this? Would she ever be able to go home?

"Hallo. Ich bin Gilbert. Du bist neu hier, nicht wahr?" he had said.

Eliza was bewildered. Her basic knowledge of German knew that the first part of the sentence was "Hello. My name is Gilbert," but what did the second part mean?

"Nem tudom, mit mondasz," she said quickly, panicked. When Gilbert gave her a strange look, she wanted to slap herself. Of course this rich German boy didn't know Hungarian. How stupid could she get?

"I don't know what you're saying," she tried again, hoping that he knew English.

"I asked if you were new here," he replied smoothly.

Of course, his accent was still heavily prominent and he pronounced words a tad off, but he could speak the language.

Eliza cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm new here."

"Well, hi. I'm-"

"I got that your name was Gilbert. I know that much."

He raised up his hands in mock surrender, rolling his eyes. "Sorry!"

Eliza laughed nervously. "I'm Elizaveta, but if you call me that, you are responsible for your injuries. Call me Eliza."

Gilbert nodded quickly. "Got it. Bit of a tough one, are we here?"

Now Eliza was beginning to get annoyed with him. "So, can I help you with something?"

"Nope, just wanted to know your name."

Yet he still didn't leave. "Yes?"

"Are you staying with the family of that kid over there?"

He pointed off at the boring wall of the school, where the musically talented boy she stayed with was sitting against, scribbling furiously onto a sheet of paper.

"Yes, that's him. Why?"

"Just because. Roderich, wasn't that his name?"

"I believe so."

"Hm. Bis nachher, Eliza!"

She gave him a blank stare.

He chuckled. "Kidding. It means see you later."

"Oh. I suppose I will."

Still laughing, he ran off to rejoin his friends, who were giving him wide-eyed stares.

_They're probably amazed that he would dare approach the weird, lonely girl, _she thought bitterly.

The bell rang again, and everyone shuffled inside.

The rest of the day was lonely.

One unusual thing Eliza had noticed was that Roderich never took off his coat. It was a heavy, velvety looking thing, navy blue with a high collar. Even when the weather peaked upwards, he kept it on.

"Roderich?" called out Eliza cautiously.

At first, he didn't respond, playing a complicated looking sad war tune on the piano.

"Roderich?" she tried once more. Still no answer.

Then he finished out the piece and turned around. He didn't say anything, just tilted his head to the side and stared at her.

Unnerved, she moved closer. "That was a very lovely piece."

He nodded. Eliza wondered if the boy was challenged. He had only spoken to her twice. Once to say hello, and the other to please pass him a piece of toast.

"If you're not going to respond, then I'll be off," Eliza snapped haughtily.

"I prefer to let my music do the talking for me," he said simply. For a seven year old, Eliza found the statement incredibly deep, but he had said it as if he had been addressing the weather.

"Your music is very good," she said slowly, cheeks turning red, embarrassed at her outburst.

Roderich noted this. "There's no need to be embarrassed. It's quite understandable. Most people get annoyed by me."

"I'm not annoyed by you!" she cried out.

He smirked. "You may not be now, but you definitely have been."

She frowned. "Now I'm getting annoyed."

It was the closest thing to a smile Eliza had ever seen on Roderich's face.

"Do you know who that boy Gilbert is?" she asked.

The half-smile fell off of his face. "Yes, I know the whole Beilshmidt family. Their grandfather led some famous charges in World War One. Very rich family."

"Hm," she sighed. "Oh, Beilshmidt? Don't they have a younger one in the family?"

"Ludwig, yes," Roderich said. "Gilbert, however, is a troublemaking little boy who will do nothing but get you in trouble. I'd suggest you stay away from him."

Eliza gave him a cold look. "Why should I listen to you?"

Roderich didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, facing his piano once more.

"Like I said, I'm not very good at talking. Let me tell you a tale through my music instead."

He pushed up the sleeves of his coat and began to play a melody.

It started out soft and haunting, low and quiet. There was nothing fancy to the tune, but it seemed to touch a chord somewhere inside of Eliza. A feeling like pity.

Then it picked up. It got faster, but not too fast. Happier, but still not happy.

The tune lifted Eliza's spirits. She smiled, bobbing her head and foot as the melody continued, but something was nagging her. It was that deja vu feeling, that if she got too happy, something horrible would happen, but she couldn't help but feel excited with the uplifting music.

Then it took a turn. It started getting slower, it started getting sadder once more. The smile dropped slowly from Eliza's face.

Roderich finished the melody with a flat note, a note that ended this story perfectly.

He turned around, his face a perfect mask of politeness. "What did you gather from the story? What is my history with Gilbert?"

Eliza took a shaky breath before answering. "You were all alone, and then Gilbert became friends with you. Your life became happy, it had meaning, and then you two slowly grew apart, your world slowly got less meaningful. Then it became dull again, this time worse, since you knew that life could be so much better than this. Gilbert had shown you that."

Roderich nodded. "See? This is why I let the music talk for me."

With that, he was done. He began playing the sad war tune again, ignoring Eliza's tears that she had started to shed.

This late at night, Eliza's room was a lifelike nightmare. Monsters of her own creation haunted the shadows, feeding her imagination with gruesome thoughts.

The shadow man lived in the corner by the rocking chair, the lonely girl sat in the middle of the floor, singing the song of the creaky floorboards, which Eliza had dubbed the sorrowful song.

Even with all of this going on, she could only focus her thoughts on Roderich's story. She did not know the details, but then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. This was too much for a young girl to handle. She needed to call on her imagination.

"Shadow man? Lonely girl?" she called out to the still night.

The lonely girl stopped singing, and the shadow man stopped making fearsome shadow puppets on the walls.

Long ago, these monsters of her mind had haunted her, had scared her. Now, she needed their advice.

"I need your help."

They both nodded.

"What am I supposed to do about Gilbert?"

The shadow man shrugged. Lonely girl sang her answer, like always.

"He's a scared boy who needs a friend, even if he betrays you in the end. You may not think it's worth the pain, but think of the memories and feelings you will gain."

"Don't listen to lonely girl, she just wants gossip to spread. She wants you to end up like her, alone and dead."

"I don't know what you're talking about, this choice would be better, to help a small boy who feels under the weather."

"He's nothing but trouble-"

"He's just feeling scared-"

"He's going to break her-"

"Then make her prepared."

When Eliza was awoken in the morning, she didn't feel the dread that she had been prepared to feel. Instead, she was prepared. Prepared to make the choice that she had decided last night as she pondered her options. The night had stretched on, as she tossed and turned in the moonlight that illuminated the room a glowing silver shade.

Eliza quickly put on her uniform and fast-walked down the halls to meet Roderich and the rest of the Edelstein's for breakfast. Then, the two would walk two blocks to the schoolyard.

They usually walked in an awkward silence, but today, the silence felt normal, like Eliza had gotten used to it. Roderich seemed angry at her for some reason.

The school was nothing scenic, nothing noteworthy. If she had not known what to look for, her eyes would pass over the dull, grey cluster of bricks.

Roderich took off for inside the building, where he sat in the library until class started, reading. At least, that's what he had said he did. Eliza never knew, she always waited outside, like the majority of the school.

Gilbert was leaned against the wall, playing with what looked like a leather-bound book.

Eliza approached him cautiously. "What're you looking at?"

He jumped and snapped the book shut. "Oh, hi. Nothing."

Eliza gave him a curious look. "Nothing, really?"

Gilbert blushed. "None of your business, anyway," he muttered.

She threw up her hands in surrender. "Sorry."

Sighing, he reopened the book. "Fine, I'll show you. It's just some drawings I drew. Nothing good."

Eliza took a peek in the scrapbook. Images of dragons breathing deadly fire with spikes on their tails and knights valiantly fighting to slay these creatures filled the pages. There was also a lot of towering castles, witches, wizards, and animals.

"Where's the princess?" she jokingly asked.

"Huh?"

"Well, usually in fairytales with knights and dragons and such, they're usually trying to save the princess."

He shrugged. "I guess the princess saved herself."

Eliza liked the thought of that. From a young age, she had been taught to settle down, try to lay low, and not cause too much trouble for people. She liked the thought of saving herself from such a boring and repetitive life.

"What are you doing after school?" Gilbert asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Nothing."

"Good. Wait for me. I have somewhere to show you."

Eliza was impatient for the day to end. Unfortunately, today was going to be a long day, since everyone was sharing stories.

"Alright class, please take out your journals."

Everyone hurriedly grabbed their journals and flipped to their creative stories.

"Would anyone like to share first?"

Gilbert slowly placed his hand into the air.

"Alright, Gilbert. Please stand up and read nice and loud."

He cleared his throat. "Once upon a time there was a young boy..."

**Once upon a time there was a young boy. He was very lonely. He wished that he could be like the birds, flying high in the sky without a care, soaring around day after day. He wished that he, too, could fly. Then he could leave all of his troubles on the ground and carry his body up to the trees.**

**His mother thought that this was a silly dream, and his father laughed and patted his head when he told them. It made him upset that they didn't support his dreams.**

**One day the boy was walking home from another day of school where the bullies had been especially mean to him. A little blue bird flew right past his face.**

**Amazed, the boy followed the bird's lazy flight deep into the heart of the surrounding forest.**

**When it finally disappeared, he was very lost. It was now late at night, and the boy was frightened.**

**He sat down next to an old willow tree and wept. The river nearby was churning heavily.**

**The tree suddenly came to life and startled the crying boy.**

**"I've been listening to you cry," the tree said.**

**The boy, startled, backed away from the tree.**

**"Don't be afraid of me, for I only want to help," the tree said. "See, I am a magical tree. I have been able to read the thoughts in your mind, and there are only two things you desire in this world. One is to be happy, and the other is to fly. I am afraid that eternal happiness is not a wish that an old tree like me can make, but I can help you fly."**

**The young boy was delighted, and the tree cast an ancient spell. He felt no different, but from that day on, whenever the boy was sad, a pair of light, feathery wings would sprout from his back, helping him fly up to the sky where he could leave his worries behind.**

Everyone stared at Gilbert when he had finished. Then they all burst into laughter.

"What a crybaby!" someone chuckled.

"That's enough!" the teacher scolded, but they continued to snicker. Gilbert looked truly hurt.

Only Eliza and Roderich weren't laughing.

The bell rang and Eliza bolted out of class.

"Someone's in a hurry," chuckled Gilbert, halfway down the steps.

She smiled, then remembered something.

"Oh no! Roderich and I have to walk home together!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's not like he talks to you, anyway. One walk alone won't kill him."

"That's not the point," she argued. "They'll be worried."

Gilbert groaned.

"Look it's either he comes with us, or we don't go at all."

"Don't go where?" Roderich asked, appearing suddenly behind them.

Eliza spun around. "Hello!"

"Go where?" he pressed.

"None of your business," Gilbert growled.

Roderich took in Gilbert like he hadn't even noticed he was there. "Oh. Hello."

"Hello."

Eliza, worrying that they were going to rip each other's head's off, cleared her throat loudly. "Come on guys. Gilbert, lead the way."

Gilbert stormed off from the school, taking them down a small path.

"This leads to the forest!" protested Roderich.

"I know," he said.

"We're not allowed in the forest."

"Then head home, you pansy."

Roderich gave an indignant "Hmph!", rolling his eyes.

The forest had a rich darkness to it, spreading vastly. The autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet, making small animals scamper across the floor. Pine needles scratched at their arms and legs, creating small cuts as they continued deeper into the forest.

Most of the trip was walked in silence, filled with the sound of birds singing their song as the sun slowly set lower and lower into the sky with each passing minute.

"It's going to get dark," Roderich proclaimed.

"Good," Gilbert said.

Ten more minutes, and Gilbert stopped suddenly in an opening in the woods. "We're here."

"We traveled thirty minutes for this?" Roderich cried out.

It was a small clearing in the forest, surrounded by tall trees that blocked most of the sunlight from traveling down. There was even an aging willow tree that shadowed most of the clearing.

"Shut up and quit complaining," Gilbert warned him.

Eliza looked around. It didn't seem particularly special at all. No beautiful flowers or remarkable landscape here.

"What's so special about this place?" she asked, playing with the leaves of the willow.

"Willkommen Geschichte Hallow," he said.

At the blank stares, he translated. "I said, welcome to Story Hallow. It's what this place is. Story Hallow. It's my thinking place."

Roderich once again opened up his opinionated mouth. "This is stu-"

"Roderich, seriously, shut up."

He gave Gilbert a not-amused look.

"Right, like I was saying, this is Story Hallow, my thinking place. I found it one day when Ludwig and his curious little Italian friend that I was babysitting wandered off into the forest. I lost them, and found here."

"Somebody hand him a babysitting award," Roderich grumbled.

Eliza giggled. "Sh, let him finish the story!"

"I come here to draw and let my mind wander. Honestly, you two are the only other people I've brought here, so don't tell a soul."

Eliza made the lock-and-key gesture over her mouth, tossing the imaginary key over her shoulder. "Not a soul."

"Why in the world would I tell anyone about a plain old opening in the middle of a grungy forest?" Roderich said. "It's not like anyone would care."

"I would care. You value friendship, don't you, Roderich?" said Gilbert coolly.

That really seemed to hit a nerve with him. "I'd like to teach you a thing or two about friendship you lying little-"

"Guys," Eliza begged. "Can you two stop fighting? I get it, you don't like each other very much, but for my sake and for your's, will you stop?"

They both faded off into silence.

"Sorry," they mumbled simultaneously.

They spent an hour spread out underneath the shade of the willow, talking until the sun truly set and their parents were really going to kill them. Moonlight faintly shone through the tall trees blocking the opening, making the still air silent. Only the owl's midnight calls and the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind passed by made any sound. That, and the chatter of three good friends, talking on what seemed like an average fall day, when it fact it was anything but, for two very good reasons. One, they had just formed a bond that was going to keep them together for a long time. Two, the war had hit Europe.

Roderich and Eliza had finally reached the Edelstein home. Awaiting them was Mrs. Edelstein, her hair running wild and tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, thank goodness you two are home!" she burst out, hugging them both so tightly they couldn't breathe upon entering the threshold.

They both couldn't respond. They knew that they deserved to be hung out the window for staying out this late without telling anyone, but deep in the woods, Eliza and Roderich had lost every fear and care in the world as they lay spread out with Gilbert, talking until the sun set the atmosphere in an orange haze.

"What in the world were you thinking?" she scolded them, ushering them into the kitchen, where two bowls of soup sat waiting there.

Wiping another tear from the corner of her eye, she left the kitchen.

They both sat down, eating the soup in silence.

"That was fun," Eliza said.

Roderich just nodded.

"Oh, don't go back to the no talking thing."

"I'm thinking," he hissed. "Or rather, composing. That requires my mind to be totally focused on my work."

Eliza rolled her eyes and let Roderich do his composing. After he had finished shoveling the soup into his mouth, he darted over to the piano and began furiously scribbling on a blank staff-lined paper, filling in complicated notes all over the sheet.

Eliza excused herself from the now empty kitchen up to her room, or rather, the Edelstein's guest bedroom.

She sat on the bed and stared at the wall, assessing everything, going over every little detail of the day. Gilbert was the most frustrating, peculiar little boy she had ever met, and yet she couldn't help but find him amusing. Like he tried so hard, but underneath he was just another normal scared little boy. Gilbert was exactly the type of person who would befriend you only to use you.

This must've been why Roderich was cautious about approaching him. For some reason, she felt like Roderich couldn't help but befriend him, either. You just couldn't say no to Gilbert Beilshmidt.

That was going to be the one thing that drove her crazy for many years. You just couldn't say no to Gilbert.

The next day, Roderich was a lot chattier, making polite conversation with Eliza as they walked to school. He was almost skipping as his shoes crunched the new-fallen leaves that lay on the sidewalks.

"You seem very happy today," Eliza laughed.

Roderich grinned. "And what's the German word for 'happy'?"

"Glücklich," she replied.

He clapped, spinning around in a circle. "Very good!"

One more spin around and his untied shoelaces got caught underneath his foot, where he spun around and started spiraling towards the ground.

"Whoa!" he cried out, throwing his hands out in front to break the fall.

Eliza ran as fast as she could to catch him before he hit the ground, making a dive into the grass.

None of them were harmed, but Roderich's sweater and Eliza's skirt were stained green from the grass.

"Oh great, my mum is going to kill me!" he whined, trying to brush off the stain.

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, it'll come out."

"I can't do anything fun without having karma come back to bite me in the ass," he grumbled.

Eliza gasped and smacked him with her book bag.

"Roderich, watch your language," she scolded.

He shrugged. "Give it some time. You'll be swearing as well, I'll bet you."

"Will not!" she cried out.

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Shut up!" Gilbert crowed, mocking their high-pitched, arguing voices.

They both stopped talking, turning to glare at the laughing boy. Whilst Roderich kept his dark brown hair carefully groomed and out of his face, besides one little curl that kept grazing his forehead, Gilbert's hair was always unkempt, falling in layers to cover his eyes. It was one major difference Eliza had picked up on. The more differences she found, the more she questioned how Roderich and Gilbert could ever get along. They were so different that the thought of them once being the best of friends was ridiculous.

The school day went as slow as ever, Eliza trying her best to pick up on the little German she understood. She now knew all the numbers up to fifty, could ask basic questions, school subjects, and colours. Everything else was confusing to her.

"Eliza, in den Vorstand zu kommen und dieses Problem lösen," the teacher said, pointing her ruler straight at Eliza.

She froze, not knowing what she was supposed to do. What was the teacher asking her?

"Was?" she asked.

Gilbert turned around in his chair and mouthed to her, "She's asking you to solve the problem on the board."

Eliza nodded and smiled. "Selbstverständlich, gnädige Frau."

Gilbert gave her the thumbs up and she returned it.

The bell rang, and Eliza once again waited outside for Roderich to slowly make his way out. Gilbert was already outside, bouncing a rubber ball up and down on the concrete of the pavement.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Found it lying around my house. With the war taking effect, thought I'd take it while these things lasted."

"Was it even yours?"

Gilbert looked around guiltily. "It was Ludwig's, but he's just a baby! It's not like he'll miss it!"

Eliza cast him a cold look. "You heartless monster."

Roderich finally appeared, taking his time with his violin strung over his shoulder.

"Do you carry that instrument everywhere?" Gilbert asked, setting the pace for them.

"Yes. Do you have to follow us around everywhere?" Roderich retorted.

He laughed. "Entspannen Sie sich und leben lassen."

"What?" Eliza said.

"It means, 'relax and let live'. It's an old saying," Roderich said, answering her question.

"Oh."

They headed off to the forest again, this time with no complaints from Roderich. He seemed to have already wrapped his head around the fact that he was going to have to put up with Gilbert, whether he liked it or not.

Gilbert continued to bounce the ball on the pavement.

Roderich stared at it like it had threatened to burn down his house.

"Something wrong?" he asked him.

"That ball," Roderich said. "The color scheme stands for something. Like a flag."

Eliza looked at it. "It's green, white, and orange. So what?"

He shrugged. "Just looks familiar."

When they reached their destination, Gilbert threw his book bag onto the ground and collapsed into the fallen leaves. When he arose, dried leaves clung to his bangs, making his hair look auburn.

"Nice 'do," teased Roderich.

He patted his hair lightly, carefully making sure not to shake out the leaves. "You think?" he giggled.

They spent the next hour jumping into the nature-made leaf piles, getting their uniforms stained with mud and mildew. When they ran out of natural leaf piles, they started making their own, throwing leaves into piles with their hands, hoping that the handful they picked up didn't contain any squirming bugs in it.

"Ew!" Gilbert cried out, dropping a caterpillar onto the ground, releasing a large handful of leaves into the air. They spiraled down daintily. "It touched me!"

Roderich and Eliza just laughed, leaving their friend to brush off the fuzzy feel of the caterpillar onto his pullover.

When the sun began to set slowly over the willow, they departed the forest, leaving the day behind.

This continued on for weeks, months, then they reached the mark of one year. Every day, racing down the steps to find their own hallow, deep in the woods, a place they could call their own. A place where secrets were shared and kept, where promises were made, where friendships and bonds were formed. Roderich slowly broke out of his composed shell to reveal that he was actually a sarcastic and hilarious person, throwing out quick, dry remarks at anyone around him. Gilbert was, well, he was still Gilbert, continuing to cause trouble and adventure wherever he set foot. Eliza was very athletic, challenging the boys to races as they saw who could run the fastest around the willow tree that marked their secret place. She won every time.

Two years passed. The war continued to rage on, getting worse and worse. Some families took their kids out of school, fearing that the Allies were going to bomb Berlin any day. Gilbert, Roderich, and Eliza found that sneaking off to the woods was the last thing their parents wanted. Slowly, the hallow became a haunting thought in the back of their minds.

Three years have gone by. At the Edelstein's dinner table, they release the news that Eliza's parents want her back home and out of Berlin as soon as possible. They weren't going to take any risks.

She packed up everything she owned in her room, lightly tucking the photograph of Roderich, Gilbert, and her at the top of everything. Roderich was hesitantly smiling, his eyes averted from the camera. Gilbert was grinning as wide as his mouth could stretch, his eyes squinted in laughter. He was in the middle, his arms strung around their waists. Eliza was smiling, too, giving the camera a little wave.

She tried not to dwell on how many memories a black-and-white picture could hold, but the answer was too much.

The house was lonely without Eliza there. That was the first thing Roderich noticed. Berlin was constantly overrun with marching soldiers and the ticking drums of war, and it made him sick. He tried to drown all the noise out with loud, angry songs, but it couldn't fully mask the stench of death that clung throughout the whole city. It might as well have been burned to a crisp, that's how strong the scent of tortured souls were. Roderich didn't want to think about what they were doing to people in the downtown centre of Berlin.

He tried teaching himself to sing, but he wasn't very good. His songs often had words to them, but when he couldn't do any of the vocal runs, he gave up. Things came naturally to Roderich, and when he found something he couldn't do, he got frustrated easily.

Eliza had a good voice. She had sang along to an old war tune that Roderich played on the violin one day. It was a very high and opera-like voice, but he liked it.

_What a shameful thing to think, _his thoughts scolded him. _She's gone now, back to where she felt happiest, her countryside home. You have no right to be selfish, wanting her back in a place where she would be miserable._

He couldn't help it, though.

Sitting down at the piano, tucking the coat of his jacket beneath the bench, he tried to think of a song that could speak for him, but he couldn't. For once in his life, there were no songs to express how he was feeling. All his life, he had let the music talk for him, but there was nothing left.

Roderich didn't know what to think. How was he going to deal with the stress of life if there was no music left for him?

He didn't know how, or why, or what possessed him to do so, but he just began making up a melody on the spot.

It flowed out slowly, gracefully. It was neither complicated or fast. It just stretched on, speaking from the very chords of his heart. With each key being pressed down, he felt like he was releasing a little more of his true emotions, letting go of the mask he'd built.

"Ich weiß, warum Sie verlassen musste, aber ich glaube nicht, dass du gehst," he sang out, not knowing where the lyrics were coming from. It seemed to fit. "Sie machte die Welt heller und jetzt scheint es langsam. Ich werde dich vermissen, ich wünsche, du würdest wieder nach Hause zu mir kommen. Wiedersehen für jetzt, mein Freund, in meinem Herzen werden Sie sein."

Then the tears fell.

*Translation - I know why you had to leave, but I don't want you to go. You made the world brighter and now it seems slow. I'll miss you, I wish you'd come back home to me. Goodbye for now, my friend, in my heart you'll be.

The rock glazed over the river, sending out ripples into the still bank. This was once a place where Gilbert felt happy, now all it contained were thoughts of the past. Thoughts that he didn't want racing through his head. The only possible thing his small mind could think of to do was jump into the river raging past him because of the storm and do something in his miserable life.

The sound of crying and running suddenly filled his head, and footsteps filled the otherwise silent air.

Roderich burst forth from the clearing, tears streaming down his face. He hadn't seen Gilbert yet.

He collapsed underneath the willow tree, rocking back and forth, his glasses falling off his face. He picked at the petals of dandelions growing underneath the tree, speckling the green grass that was regrowing with the incoming Spring season.

"Roderich?" he called out softly.

He stopped choking on tears, enough to open his eyes and see Gilbert spread out across the clearing.

Pink, then red colour filled his cheeks, blushing profusely.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, verdammnt, I'll be going now-"

He was stuttering, trying to collect himself, when Gilbert crawled up to him underneath the willow tree.

Roderich was confused. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

Gilbert looked him straight in the eye as he gently took hold of his hand. "Taking care of you."

He backed up against the tree, letting Roderich's head fall onto the crook of his neck. There they sat watching the sun set, trying not to let the wind carry them away.

Elizaveta viewed the countryside with new eyes. Eyes that had seen so much now, eyes that would never look at anything the same way again. Eyes that had had it all, only to have everything stolen away. Her little ten year old self knew one thing: nothing was forever.

Two months later, and Roderich's father, Mr. Edelstein, received an invitation to perform his concert pieces for a royal Austrian family. Of course he couldn't refuse, so they packed up everything they had and abandoned the shattered town of Berlin.

Now Gilbert was truly alone. He had lost both of his best friends, not to mention the whole town was a living hellhole. All that Berlin was, was war. It raged on into the night, continued in the morning, and the day wasn't complete until a soldier fired round after round of ammunition, and someone hit the floor with a nasty shake, and their mother screamed, and the children wept at the sight.

For years to come, Gilbert would detest the color red that stained all of Berlin. It covered everything, so much that Gilbert and his brother Ludwig began to call it the "rote Stadt", which meant red city.

He spent most his days curled into a corner with a book. Gilbert's favourite was Anderson's Fairie Tale Story Book. Eight hundred pages of mythical creatures, some stories with colourful illustrations, lit up the dull grey skies of reality. For those eight hundred pages, Gilbert really believed he could fly up in the sky with the Pegasus and fairies, or talk to the sea creatures like the Little Mermaid, even though her story didn't have a happy ending. His favourite story in the whole book was The Little Red Shoes. The girl put on a pair of red dancing shoes that had been bewitched, and danced and danced from city to city until they had to cut off her feet. The shoes continued to dance, though, even without a person wearing them. He liked the grim stories.

Unfortunately, one couldn't live through tales forever, and the book collected dust in the attic after years and years of having pages torn out and dog-eared.

Even after so many years, Gilbert was still alone. He wandered the streets of the red city all alone, trying to find some purpose in life. His grandfather, who took care of him and Ludwig, screamed at him to get a job, to get out of the house, now that he was a grown man. There was nothing that interested Gilbert in this dull little town. The only possibility for a young, strong man like him was to join the battle.

Gilbert had never believed in the Natzi cause all that much. Roderich had relatives that were Jewish, hence his very Hebrew-sounding last name. Of course, Roderich was already opinionated enough, and that just fueled the flame for him. Gilbert and Eliza had listened to him rant for what was surely days on end.

Eliza had just shrugged her shoulders, saying that it wasn't proper for girls like her to get involved in such political events. Oh, how adult they must have sounded, those days in Story Hallow.

Gilbert let out a shallow grin at the thought. It took a lot to make him smile nowadays. Now that he had matured more, even the crazy antics of Ludwig's Italian friend did nothing but annoy him to death. He almost wished it would kill him, so that he wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore.

He passed a piece of aging paper hung up on the walls. It had been there for forever. The recruiting paper.

He had always rolled his eyes and walked past it without a second thought, but today he actually took a close-up look of the parchment.

Names. Real, living human beings had written their names, to fight and die for their country, no matter what the cost, here on his damned slip of paper. Real people. These were real names.

It didn't register in Gilbert's brain. Some of these men might be dead. Some might be close to death. Some might be wishing they were dead.

_Then I belong, _he thought bitterly, lifting up his pen to sign on a blank space.

Roderich's family had settled down in Austria. He, like his father, became a successful concert pianist, traveling across the country to play for anyone of any importance. As soon as his fingers touched the keys, he knew where he belonged. Right here, in the moment, doing what he loved.

Yet the days grew repetitive, and the routine boring, and the fawning and attention annoying. Roderich just wanted one day, no, just one hour of silence, and he would be happy. It didn't seem like his wish would be granted.

In the ten minutes he had to rest before packing up to travel via carriage, yet again, a knock on the door was sounded.

"Whoever it is, I'm busy!" he called out.

"It's important," a female voice said.

"Marianne?" he asked. It didn't sound like his assistant, Marianne, but maybe he was just mistaken through the muffled door.

"Please, sir," she said.

This definitely wasn't Marianne, she never called him 'sir'.

"Alright then, come on in," he said. Yelling through a closed door. How ridiculously childish of him.

The door opened slowly, and a young woman stepped inside. She was dressed simply, in a fitting red dress with a simple sash accenting the waist. She had long brown hair that fell down her back in curls, with big, green eyes. The girl herself was muscularly built, instead of the dainty girls he usually saw around town.

He didn't have a clue who this mystery woman was. She seemed like no one, yet someone of great importance, at the same time.

"Who might you be?" he snapped, closing his eyes and lifting a tea cup to his lips.

She smiled faintly. "You really don't recognize me? Well, I suppose I could say that if I passed you on the streets, I wouldn't have recognized you, either. If it weren't for your father, who payed for me to come visit you, I would've never been able to-"

"I hate to interrupt, but who the hell are you?"

She made eye contact with him. "Elizaveta Hedervary. I guess you could call me a childhood acquaintance."

The tea cup shattered on the floor.

"No, you couldn't- no, that's not possible-"

"But is it not?" she said, taking one step closer to him. "Now hurry up and grab whatever you might need, we're going on a trip."

"A trip?" he stammered. "Just where do-"

"Pack your things!" she sang cheerily, closing the door daintily behind her.

When Roderich had finally gathered all of his things, he still couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. After all, he was twenty years old. After (was it ten years now?) of no communication whatsoever, Eliza had shown up out of the blue, and, according to her, was a guest with his father.

He knew that his parents had liked Eliza. Who couldn't? The cheery girl lit up any dull afternoon with her smile and intelligent conversation. Roderich hadn't met any other person who could match him on an intellectual level until Eliza showed up. Gilbert was smart, he just never used his brain.

Speaking of Gilbert, where was the reckless German?

"I have all of my things. Care to tell me where we're going?" he asked.

Eliza turned around and clapped her hands in delight. "Lovely. Before we go, I'd like to make a stop somewhere where I can change. Dresses are just too stuffy."

Roderich smiled. Now there was the Eliza he knew.

When Eliza came back out of the changing room, she was dressed in a crisp white blouse and brown trousers with a bow tied around the collar where a tie would normally hang in a lovely shade of green.

"Green was always your colour," he absentmindedly said.

"What?"

"I said that green was always your colour."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. Green just always suited you."

She smiled. "How does green suit me more than any other colour that fills the earth?"

He shrugged. "It's friendly. It's always there, even if we can't see it. Especially in Winter. It's harder to find."

Eliza gave him not an unfriendly stare, but a curious one, before replying. "Navy was your colour."

"I beg your pardon? Why navy?"

"For that coat that you constantly wore, and are clearly still wearing." She gestured to his coat, which was the same shade of navy that his coat from childhood had been.

She laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"Did Gilbert change?"

Eliza stopped walking. Her head dropped down to her chest.

"What's the matter?"

"Gilbert changed."

She left it at that, and then left the room, clearly wanting Roderich to follow her.

"I demand to know where we are go-"

"Berlin."

It was rainy. Not like the normal rain, but rain that fell hard enough to wash away the stench of dead. All Gilbert could hope for was that the rain was a sign of some higher power, cleansing the city, wiping the slate clean. Of course this was wishful thinking.

The paper had been checked, his name had been registered, and he had been escorted off to serve his duty to his country.

_Day thirty-two of standing in the never ending rain. I don't think anyone is going to get mad if I leave my post for all of thirty minutes to grab a much-needed beer._

There was a small pub just two blocks from where he was stationed. He had never been inside it before, but there was a first time for everything.

He walked into the pub and gave the bartender a salute. Thirty-two days, and that had already become an instinct. He cringed.

They had forced him to take care of his wild hair, and he had been forced to cut it. Gilbert hated the flatness of it. He looked just like the rest of the military men he hated.

"I'll take whatever you recommend," he said dully.

The bartender nodded, moving to the back, filled with box after box of liquor. Oh, if only he could afford it all.

There was no one else in the pub. Just him.

The rest of the base had been heavily prepared for a supposed American attack. They weren't sure yet if it was a fake attack or real leaked information, but they weren't taking any chances. Gilbert had heard stories of these American soldiers. How they zoomed through the sky in their planes like birds, dropping bombs and ruining lives like it was nothing. To Gilbert, they sounded majestic, but they were the enemy, and the enemy was to be fought, not admired.

The little bell that hung at the top of the door rang, signaling the arrival of someone else, or a group of people. Or two, judging from the sound of the footsteps.

He didn't turn around.

Eliza had been forced to change back into her dress, much to her dislike. Roderich felt bad for her. She'd always been different from the other self-obsessed girls, not caring what anyone else though about her. That had been something Roderich had admired in her. Her carelessness. Gilbert had carelessness, too, but not in a good way.

Yet, here they were. Visiting the broken soul that had once been their best friend. The young boy who had grown up. The boy who had seen too much.

Roderich knew the major difference between him and Gilbert. Roderich was the boy who had nothing, and now had everything.

Gilbert was the boy who had had it all, and then, one day, had nothing.

The bartender pushed over a glass of scotch.

"Drink up," he said cheerily, winking.

Guess who was top on his to-shoot list.

The new arrivals took a seat at the stools.

Right next to him.

He turned to sneak a glance at them.

One was a woman, another a man. The woman was beautiful, with curly brown hair and a simple red dress that made her more pretty than she would in something elaborate. The man was handsome, with porcelain features and a haughty air about him. The woman had bright green eyes that shone, and the man had dark blue eyes.

One could go so far as to say they were navy.

Eliza gave a slight nod to the man who was sitting at the bar stand. He looked so sad, helpless, drowning himself in alcohol. His white-blonde hair was chopped off, yet still unruly, still mangled. His eyes looked bloodshot, drained of any colour or hope. It was a truly sad sight to see.

At first, Roderich refused to believe that this could be the mischievous boy he had known for all of his childhood. This boy, no, this man, was a stranger. He was a lost soul in a world filled with despair.

Eliza ordered something from the bartender for them both, and made herself comfortable.

Gilbert had turned around to get a better look at them.

"What's a pretty belle like you doing around this town?" he asked suddenly, looking up at Eliza with a smirk.

That was the Gilbert that Roderich had known, except his smirk was forced, his eyes had lost that sparkle that made the joke funny. Truly, ten years had severed the tie between all of them. Ten years, and he had become a completely different person. If they had simply passed each other on the street, there was no way that he would have been able to recognize this unwilling soldier as Gilbert Beilshmidt. No way.

After having no interaction with anyone he even remotely liked in the past thirty-two days, he was hoping to get a few words out of these strangers. Maybe they could give him news on the world outside. They looked rich, like they had seen everything. They had probably had the chance to travel the world. Oh, how much Gilbert wanted to be able to travel. Unfortunately, he was bound to the red city, and not just military ties. The family needed him. Every day, his grandfather had been getting weaker, and it had been his duty to raise Ludwig and help nurse his grandfather back to health.

It had been a hard life that he had covered up with energy and a carefree attitude. If he made it seem like nothing hurt him, then maybe nobody would try to hurt him.

He set the glass down with a thud, letting the wood echo the sound throughout the pub. It was a pathetic sound. He would hear it thrice more as he paid to drown himself. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it had been more than thirty minutes, that was for sure.

Roderich turned to Eliza, aghast. She was just stirring her cocktail around, not drinking from it. Her eyes flicked upward to meet his and nodded sorrowfully. "Let's talk to him tomorrow, when he's not this drunk. It wouldn't be a very productive conversation with so much liquor in his system."

He nodded, not knowing what else to do. What happened to the young boy who's goal in life was to fly?

Gilbert, with his book of fairie tales that he carried everywhere. Gilbert, with his creative mind and troublemaking personality. Gilbert, the boy who had introduced them both to Story Hallow. Gilbert, the boy who wanted to fly.

After his drunken haze cleared, Gilbert trudged back to his place among the troop. He found that no one was awaiting his arrival with a cross look on their face.

_Just shows how important I am around here, _he thought bitterly.

He loaded up his gun, sitting behind the barrier walls that protected Berlin. Everything was just the same.

Eliza had found a homey inn in the centre of Berlin where they could stay the night. As they settled in, they tried to wrap their minds around what had become of their best friend.

"I don't even believe it," Roderich whispered softly, running his fingers through his hair continuously.

He choked back a sob, laying down onto the bed. "I refuse to believe it."

Eliza didn't say anything. In truth, she didn't know what to say. There was simply nothing she could say that could comfort him. Nothing.

Gilbert stared at the grey ceiling, trying to sleep. Unfortunately, the shadows his mind had created constantly haunted him like living nightmares.

He could only describe some of these as menacing shadow puppets, running up down the walls, while a little girl would wail in the corner with her creaky floorboard voice.

He groaned, pushing his face into the pillow. Why wouldn't his mind just shut up? Did it have to punish him any more than he punished himself?

"Worthless," sang the floorboards.

Gilbert plugged his ears and hummed quietly, trying to tune out the nighttime terrors of his mind.

The shadow puppets cackled.

"Good for nothing," the little girl continued to tease.

"Gilbert, he's a hopeless failure, his pa wanted a doc or sailor, he joined the army to belong, but he was weak and they were strong. Tie the rope and end your pain, you have nothing to lose and a lot to gain! If you want to accomplish anything, here's a chair and here's your string. Hang it up onto a rafter, finally have your happily ever after!"

After years of this hopelessness, he had managed to build a dull mask where nothing affected him. This was the first time he had cried in ten years, and this time there was no one there with him.

When the sun woke up Roderich the next morning, he didn't remember anything from the previous day for a few seconds. Then everything hit him like a tidal wave.

He staggered out of bed, looking for a strong cup of tea somewhere to calm him down.

"Gotta be here somewhere," he muttered, lifting up books and such to find tea.

"Are you out of your mind?" Eliza said, jumping up out of bed after he knocked over and shattered a lamp. "What the hell are you even looking for underneath a lamp?"

"Tea," he stated simply.

Eliza looked at him like he was crazy, and rightfully so.

"We can get tea later. First, let's stop by the barracks and catch Gilbert."

Roderich nodded, letting Eliza drag him out the door.

"Get dressed first!" she scolded, shoving his suitcase towards him.

When everything was finally in order, they headed out onto the bleak streets to find the soldiers barracks. Visitors were welcome with a special permit that Eliza had already acquired in advance. She seemed to have been plotting this out for a long time.

They raced up the stone steps and reached the front desk. It was a big, burly man at the front. Not your average secretary.

"Hi, we have a permit to visit volunteer soldier Gilbert Beilshmidt," Eliza said.

The man looked up. "Names?"

"Elizaveta Hedervary."

"Roderich Edelstein."

He yawned. "Alright. You've got 'bout ten minutes, starting now."

They raced over to where he was staying, a small dorm-like room that all soldiers got. Small and cramped, but you could still live in it.

Room 203. They had to find 203. 198, 199, 200, 201, 202...

Room 203.

When Eliza first swung the door open, it looked empty. Except...

She immediately sobbed, falling back into Roderich.

He hadn't even gotten to look inside yet, but just one glance and he collapsed onto the floor. His head rushed. This surely wasn't real, this couldn't be...

Their friend lay on the floor, his eyes closed, his mouth agape, his white-blonde hair damp with sticky red blood that covered the floor around him.

He wasn't in uniform, just a simple white shirt and black pants. He truly didn't want to be remembered as the man who died in the military.

The man who died... no, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was no way that he could be gone.

He walked into the room, avoiding looking at the still body on the floor. There was a note, folded onto the bed.

Roderich beckoned for Eliza to come sit on the bed and read it with him.

**Once upon a time there was a young boy. He was very lonely. He wished that he could be like the birds, flying high in the sky without a care, soaring around day after day. He wished that he, too, could fly. Then he could leave all of his troubles on the ground and carry his body up to the trees.**

**That young boy thought that flying was his only wish, but he didn't realize that he was wrong. The tree had been wrong. He wanted three things. To be happy, to fly, and to have friends.**

**That young boy didn't need the magic old tree to get friends. They came to him as a miracle and a lifesaver. They changed his views on everything, and gave him his first wish: happiness. Now he only had one wish left: to fly.**

**That young boy grew up into a man, a very lonely man, who wished he could be like the birds. Maybe he will never get to fly like the birds, but his soul can now rest.**

**And you can bet he's flying high.**


End file.
